“I did it,” Gabriel said, conversationally. “I met the woman, the only woman for me. I met her, and now . . . I’m going to meet my wife.”

“Give me one last time,” he begged. “Please, please. I beg you.” “I—” She stopped and started again. “I’m afraid, Gabriel. You’ll break my heart.” “Mine is already broken.”

“I woke up this morning,” Gabriel said, “thinking of nothing more than rolling over and pulling you into my arms and kissing you again. Kissing: only kissing. As if I were a green boy of fourteen. In case you don’t realize it, Kate, kissing is not a man’s usual inclination in the morning.”

“Gabriel looked up at her from under thick eyelashes. “Will you please grope me under the table, Kate mine?”“I’m not your Kate,” she said, feeling her lips curve. Her treacherous heart was no match for a flirtatious prince on a summer’s day.“That’s the odd thing,” he said, lying on his back again and shading his eyes with an arm. “You are, you are, you are.”

“Where did you go to school?” Piers inquired. “Your all together too literate for a butler. Most bulters I know say things like as you wish, my lord, and leave it at that. Our conversations should be along these lines: Prufrock, bring me a wench and then you would say, as you wish.”

“I would like, just once, for a woman to see me as other than a person with a coronet. Simply as a man, no different than other men.”

“Here, drink your liqueur," Henry said, tossing back her drink. "I carry it with me everywhere because it's the only kind of drink that Leo doesn't like, so there's a chance I'll still have some tomorrow.”